


QAF meets MST #4

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Inspired by Real Events, Michael Novotny Bashing, Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-05
Updated: 2004-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-27 05:11:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12074175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: The boys must MST more bad poetry because it's raining and the author has nothing better to do (which has nothing to do with the weather, obviously).





	QAF meets MST #4

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

A/N: The previous installments of this "series" are on my website, the poem is indicated with >.

* * *

6...5...4...3...2...1...   
BRIAN: So, Michael definitely shot himself in the foot, right? Then he staggered in pain until he fell into a canyon? Are you sure that you didn't shoot at him after you pushed him again and then just blamed him knowing he didn't have the presence of mind to defend himself?   
JUSTIN: Of course not. I would never hurt Michael intentionally.   
BRIAN: Then why aren't you allowed to own firearms anymore?   
JUSTIN: Government red tape.   
BRIAN: *suspitious* Um... yeah.   
MICHAEL: *loudly* My foot hurts.   
JUSTIN: Let's get this thing done before someone realizes I shot him.   
BRIAN: What?   
JUSTIN: I said, 'I had fun with all those weasels last autumn.'   
BRIAN: *nods knowingly* Me too.   
>Antisocial:   
JUSTIN: In my psychology class, it was explained that being "antisocial" means that you are "sociopathic" which means that antisocial people are in an *reads from dictionary* "emotionally and behaviorally disordered state characterized by clear perception of reality except for the individual's social and moral obligations and often by the pursuit of immediate personal gratification in criminal acts, drug addiction, or sexual perversion."   
MICHAEL: Brian!   
JUSTIN: No, Michael, not Brian. More like Jeffrey Dahmer.   
BRIAN: Or Ted Bundy.   
JUSTIN: Precisely.   
BRIAN: So the poem is about a homicidal necrophilic serial rapist?   
JUSTIN: Most likely. 

>Words are hard for me to find   
BRIAN: Try a book.   
JUSTIN: So that'd be an illiterate homicidal necrophilic serial rapist.   
MICHAEL: My foot hurts.   
JUSTIN: *emploringly to Brian* Let me gag him, just for, like, a day.   
BRIAN: We can't, babe. The doctor says he's not bright enough to breath through his nose; he'd suffocate.   
JUSTIN: So?   
BRIAN: What was that?   
JUSTIN: I said 'oh.'   
>Thrown in boxes piled high to the ceiling   
BRIAN: Books. Words go in books.   
JUSTIN: I pile my boxes low. You shouldn't crowd ceilings, they're vicious when surrounded. 

>Cobweb covered and dusty memories   
BRIAN: Are infested with the spiders that covered them in cobwebs. They may take over the whole planet someday.   
JUSTIN: Don't worry, ceilings eat spiders.   
BRIAN: Crisis avoided. 

>Leave me limp and reeling   
BRIAN: Okay.   
JUSTIN: Don't. Stupidity is contagious.   
>Slow to sort through this awful mess   
JUSTIN: So what if we're being slow? Just because the awful mess was probably made in under a minute doesn't mean I'm in any hurry. Insolent poem. 

>People walk away in disgust   
JUSTIN: As well they should!   
BRIAN: The lucky bastards.   
>A snob, a social inept is how I'm seen.   
BRIAN: Actually, snobs are very socially adept. They're just too good to talk to those who don't shit diamonds and therefore almost never get a chance to dazzle us with their fine social skills.   
JUSTIN: It's a damn shame.   
MICHAEL: Shit! Damn!   
BRIAN: Strange that he hardly recognizes anything but swear words.   
JUSTIN: Let's rename him Damn Shit so he'll just come running when I call to him from the other side of a canyon.   
BRIAN: Um. *to Michael* Hey, Damn Shit!   
MICHAEL: *looks up*   
BRIAN: It works for me. Wait, what did you say?   
JUSTIN: I said 'his mother won't abide crayons.'   
BRIAN: Oh. Right. Because he was drawing on the walls.   
DAMN SHIT: *drools*   
>But it's nothing more than general distrust.   
BRIAN: Well, you can't expect people to trust an illiterate homicidal necrophilic serial rapist, can you?   
JUSTIN: Why not? They trust George W. to run the fuckin' country.   
BRIAN: Thankfully, he hasn't done too much damage since he's been too busy trying to amend the constitution and make gay marriage illegal.   
JUSTIN: Thankfully. 

>How I envy those with sharp wit   
JUSTIN: We know.   
>Quick on the uptake, fast on the move   
BRIAN: Serial rapists can't be improved.   
JUSTIN: You didn't rhyme that properly.   
BRIAN: You didn't fool me into thinking Damn Shit actually shot himself.   
JUSTIN: What?   
BRIAN: I said your finger prints were all over the gun.   
JUSTIN: *stares*   
BRIAN: *stares back*   
>Confedence is a must in this world, I know   
BRIAN: Yeah, that's the only thing you know.   
JUSTIN: Aw, your cheap shot just missed the mark.   
BRIAN: So did yours.   
JUSTIN: What?   
BRIAN: I said I know you weren't aiming at his foot.   
JUSTIN: *stares*   
BRIAN: *stares back*   
DAMN SHIT: *blinks*   
>Never will I fit in this narrow groove.   
JUSTIN: Blah, blah, sexual connotations. We're done now.   
BRIAN: Not yet.   
JUSTIN: What?   
BRIAN: I haven't showed my appreciation for your renewed attempts on Damn Shit's life. For your persistence... *slids a large box towards Justin*   
JUSTIN: You didn't!   
BRIAN: Poisons! Can't let a ban on firearms stand in your way.   
JUSTIN: All right! Can we kill the poet first? Please?   
BRIAN: As soon as you can learn which one's won't show up in a traditional autopsy.   
DAMN SHIT: *giggles*   
JUSTIN: Sweet.


End file.
